Here’s a parody of Edgar Allen Poe’s famed The Raven.
It’s working title is The Splurge.
So without further ado The Splurge:
Once upon a midnight cheery, while I conjured loud and clearly
A catchy, popular song once sung in a past and long gone tour.
While doing math, some simple summing, suddenly I started humming
Quickly followed by some drumming, drumming on my wooden floor.
“My memory’s poor;” I said, “needs to be reminded for sure—
Just one listen and nothing more.”
The song t’was by Duran Duran, and I, back then was their biggest fan.
I wished to be their backstage man for this oh so 1980s band.
Impossible to experience but for the genius invention of the iTunes Store.
“This song is cooler than parkour! I must buy it off the iTunes Store—
Just one purchase and nothing more.”
But the spending didn’t stop so soon, and the clicking continued.
Owl City, Dorrough, Coldplay, Motion City Soundtrack, Paramore—
Each separate song and artist thrilled me as never before!
My former musical tastes were shaken to their core, opening new musical doors—
I had become a music whore!
Still the spending was unceasing, and my savings kept decreasing.
The hours would total four before the splurge was finally o’er
By the morning my savings were no more; the overdrafts made my parents quite sore
But their punishment couldn’t sadden me for I’ll have my music as I work off my debt with chores—
Enough chores to last for evermore!
O eighth block, you just drag on. An hour and a half has never felt so long. I sit in my desk trying to sleep, but I find little success. And it’s not at all like I have some personal issue with Mrs. Hund’s style that makes this class seem more plain than an IHOP pancake. In fact despise of this particular class can be heard most everywhere in the school; it’s whispered in hallways, sighed about at lunch, and even noted in certain Scarlet Letter Day presentations. How much longer must I swallow this pill of a class??
The proceeding paragraph was my mindset for eighth block church history until recently. Yes, recently I decided to call to mind how bad the class really is, and, get this, I decided it’s not actually that bad. Sure, I don’t look forward to it, but it does offer me something no other class does: a chance to just space off and pen potential songs and poems. Borderline enjoyable adequately describes it. I simply sit in a desk for 90 minutes thinking about recent things in my life and try to make sense (and later rhymes) out of them. Recently, my near obsession with Duran Duran has been my topic of choice. I tried my very best to parody The Raven last class. Not good. Now I just wonder how many lyrics I can squeeze out of the 10 remaining blocks. Hopefully volumes, but if not at least I have a few poems to fall back on. Here’s one I’m particularly proud of:
Cursive or Print?
Cursive or Print?
To this question,
Many hours I’ve lent.
And don’t forget,
All the money I’ve spent
On countless ink cartridges,
Letters carried by partridges
Through the wide open sky,
But still I question why,
Cause here’s the thing
I truly prefer wingdings.
